


Remain

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cock Warming, Comfort Sex, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Secret Relationship, Under desk/table blowjob while others are in the room and unaware, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: After Jane Prentiss's attack, Jon needs a distraction. Elias is happy to provide.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 6
Kudos: 144
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Remain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winternacht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/gifts).



The Archives had always been disquieting. 

Mere months ago, Jon might’ve dismissed the idea. Too much work, too little sleep, and a diet of spooky stories would turn anyone’s mind towards what might be lurking unseen. And as much as he might deny it at times, he was certainly susceptible to the suggestions the statements provided to a frazzled mind. 

But now…now, he couldn’t take refuge in the paper thin distance the statements had provided. The fact they’d happened to someone else, even if he’d always believed they had happened. He put his head into his hands, pulled down by the weight of exhaustion even as the lingering threads of terror kept his eyes pinned on the worm corpses rotting outside his office. There was no reason for him to remain here. To watch, as if without his gaze the worms might stir to life. Or worse, to see the trap door open, revealing a killer far more mundane but no less deadly for it. 

A click, and Jon scrambled for his desk drawer, yanking it open and fumbling for the letter opener Elias had given him upon his promotion. But his bandaged hands were clumsy, and it tumbled to the floor with a thud, landing outside his reach. Slow and measured footsteps echoed in the empty room, all while Jon remained paralyzed. Waiting for what might be his doom. 

“Jon, what are you still doing here?”

He nearly laughed as Elias appeared in the doorway, briefcase in hand and jacket slung over one shoulder, both of which he set down with a sigh as he walked over to Jon. It was completely irrational, but Jon couldn’t help it; he pushed back from his desk, trying to get distance from Elias even if he couldn’t articulate why. An escape attempt Elias stopped easily with a hand around the arm of his chair, not that escape by desk chair was all that brilliant a plan in the first place. 

“You need some rest,” Elias said, dragging the chair back and sitting on the desk after carefully moving a stack of statements aside. He leaned forward, brushing hair out of Jon’s face, though Jon was sure it did nothing to make him look any less like a horror. 

“I told you, I will rest. I just need—” He reached for the pile of statements that he’d carefully transcribed, as if writing them out by hand would reveal something listening hadn’t. But as his fingers brushed the edge of one, his hand spasmed, knocking them onto the floor while he cursed softly. 

He tried to get to his feet, only to be halted by a firm hand on his shoulder as Elias stood. When Jon’s shoulders slumped in mute admission, he let him go, circling the desk to pick the statements up. Carefully straightening them, before tucking them neatly into a box on one of the back shelves, well out of Jon’s reach. The action was pointed, and familiar enough Jon couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jon tried to cross his arms, then winced as the movement tugged at his wounds. He resigned himself to letting his arms rest as casually as possible on his thighs. 

“I haven’t had anything try to turn me into worm food. Or worse.” 

The reminder of what could’ve happened made bile rise in Jon’s throat. But Elias had always been blunt, hadn’t he? Never one for platitudes where the truth would do. He opened his mouth to voice some further protest, but found he couldn’t think of one, instead subsiding into silence as he watched Elias cross the distance back to the desk. 

Elias knelt at his feet, taking one of Jon’s hands in both of his. The gesture sent a flutter through Jon’s chest. It wasn’t that it was strange, not really. After all, they’d been…well, whatever they were, since before Jon had been appointed Head Archivist. It was something he tried not to dwell on, the implications of it unpleasant. And Elias had repeatedly assured him there was no need for concern, that he’d been chosen for his talents alone. Even if he hadn’t always believed him, he’d wanted the job. He’d been certain he could do it, and that even if Elias might’ve favored him, he’d live up to everything Elias wanted. 

And look how that had turned out. 

“Christ, what a mess.” He laughed helplessly, eyes flicking between Elias and the Archives. Fingers flexing impotently in Elias’s grip, as Elias gently caressed a strip of exposed skin along the back of his hand.

“Yes, Jon. That’s rather the point I’ve been trying to make. Given that you seem to agree, can we head home?” 

Jon was certain the rather exasperated look Elias was giving him was meant as comfort. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that it worked. Whatever else happened, Elias remained as unruffled as ever. As disconcerting as that was at times, it helped. To know that even if Jon fell apart, Elias would still be there. Waiting to put him back together. If there was anything left to put back together.

“I can’t do this, Elias.” His hands were shaking, would be shaking, if Elias hadn’t pressed them against his own, covering them with his broader palms. It shouldn’t help, but it did. Just like the way Elias nudged his legs apart, the discomfort of the adjustment worth it for the warmth of Elias’s body bracketed between them. 

“Please don’t make me carry you. While I imagine I can, I don’t think either of us particularly wants to endure that indignity.” His face remained solemn, though Jon knew it was a joke. One Jon might’ve laughed at, if the thought weren’t strangely appealing, even if he mostly retained enough restraint to balk at actually doing it. 

But he didn’t laugh, didn’t argue or grumble or scold. Instead he found himself looking up again, scanning for any movement in the Archives. Any sign of the blow that he knew was still coming, that Elias couldn’t stop. 

“I see.”

The words dragged his attention back to Elias, who had followed his gaze. Elias sighed, and shifted, scooting under Jon’s desk and dragging Jon’s chair with him. “Then perhaps I can help you relax.” His meaning became clear as he began to undo Jon’s trousers, reaching inside to free his cock while Jon could only gape. 

“What are you doing?” Jon managed to choke out as Elias’s hand wrapped loosely around his cock. Stroking it softly, in a way that was more akin to his comforting touches from before than any true attempt to arouse Jon. Not that it didn’t affect him. It should be impossible, absurd given the context, but as Elias continued to stroke along the sensitive skin, Jon found his breath hitching in response. 

“Helping you relax,” Elias said, as blase as if Jon had asked him how much toilet paper they had left, or whether they were out of coffee. As if there was nothing strange about how he was leaning towards Jon, licking his lips as Jon remained transfixed, desperately grasping after a protest his exhausted mind couldn’t find. 

Elias’s tongue flicked across the head, enough to jog some sense back into Jon’s skull, to raise the objection that he needed to voice, though it sounded rote even to him. 

“Elias, this really isn’t appropriate—ah.” His fingers gripped Elias’s hair, and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to stop Elias or encourage him. It hardly mattered; Elias seemed determined to proceed regardless. And however horrified Jon might ordinarily be, he couldn’t deny that the sensation of Elias’s lips sliding over his slowly hardening cock was a welcome one. A distraction, and yes, maybe something that would lead to relaxation. Even if this wasn’t the venue he would’ve chosen. 

His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he tried to suppress the moan that welled in his throat when Elias took him deeper, the small whimper of loss when he drew back suddenly. Jon’s hand tightened in Elias’s hair, but he didn’t try to stop him. Why would he, when Elias seemed to be coming to his senses, even if the realization was one that brought Jon more disappointment than he expected. 

But Elias didn’t try to push Jon back, to emerge from where he’d tucked himself uncomfortably under Jon’s desk. All he did was lift a hand, holding it out to Jon. Somehow, that seemed more absurd than any of the rest of this. Not because Jon thought Elias didn’t—didn’t care for him, didn’t love him, though he rarely said it in so many words. It was only that he was blunt, serious. Appreciative, but not quite in this way. It was all enough to make Jon hesitate, as if there was some catch. Waiting for Elias to make some sardonic comment, some small joke that would lighten the depth of this small gesture.

Yet all he did was wait, and watch. 

Before he could get dragged farther along whatever terrible path his thoughts were tumbling down, Jon took the hand, letting Elias weave their fingers together. His grip remaining solid, a weight to hold Jon where it rested on his thigh as Elias’s lips twitched into a small smile. 

“I think these are exceptional circumstances, don’t you?” 

Jon laughed softly, despite himself. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” 

Anything else he might’ve said was covered by the moan he failed to silence this time, as Elias took his cock into his mouth. Jon’s grip tightened, around Elias’s hand and in his hair, while Elias rubbed gentle circles into his ankle. And though the terror still squirmed in his chest, it was harder to hold onto the immediacy of it all, with Elias’s hand tight around his, and his mouth sliding up and down the length of Jon’s cock. An undeniable presence, an anchor in the storm surrounding him. 

Through it all, he kept his eyes on Elias, who stared up at Jon with an intensity that scared Jon far more than anything in the Archives. But this was a familiar terror, one he desired as much as he feared. The knowledge that Elias was looking at _him_ , that he wanted Jon, in ways Jon still didn’t quite understand. Ways that made Elias kneel here, that made him hum around his cock as Jon’s fingers tightened in his hair. How he only took Jon deeper, never flinching even as Jon found he could no longer stop the slight hitch of his hips, giving into the sweet release that Elias promised. The sleep that would hopefully follow, colored by pleasure and the warmth of Elias brought him. 

Still, he found some stubborn part of him wanted to draw back. Guilt carved deep into his bones, that they shouldn’t do this. Not here, and not anywhere. Questions he’d asked time and time again pressed against his lips, brought up by the heady sensations of Elias doing this for him, doing this to him, and here. _Is it because of this— No, I see your potential. But Sasha— Skills aren’t talent._ Shame, when he saw the anger Tim couldn’t quite hide, even as the taste of Elias lingered on his lips. Made all the worse when Sasha did hide hers, and congratulated him. 

If Elias had picked her, would she have foreseen this? Prepared better, done better. Fought harder, so that no one was shot through with worms and the sick fear that remained even after the invaders were crushed to a thick paste. But no, Elias would say. Had said, more or less. No one could’ve foreseen this. And Jon had done his best. What else could he expect, with a murderer on the loose? 

When Elias did pull back, it was a relief as much as a disappointment, even as despair hardened in his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to speak around it, to find some excuse or explanation that would make Elias leave him alone. So that he could watch, and wait for whatever awaited him in turn. 

But Jon failed to speak, and Elias didn’t make any attempt to leave. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Jon’s flagging erection, and lifted a hand to cover the one Jon had managed to tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t imagine there’s anything I can say to assuage your doubts. And I wouldn’t want you to stop questioning, to stop looking for answers where few would dare to find them. But sometimes you have to wait for the answers to come to you. And you need to be ready for them when they finally do.”

“What do you mean?”

The look Elias gave him was one he’d seen before, though not often and rarely like this. It was a look he favored when he watched Jon from afar, regarding him over the top of a book or from the corner of his eye as they did the dishes together. As if he were assessing Jon, weighing him, and coming to conclusions Jon had never dare ask about. Always afraid what the answer might be. Still afraid of it even now. 

“Terror without direction serves no purpose.” He squeezed Jon’s hand. “Focus on me.” 

A command Jon obeyed as best he could, and one he found easier and easier to heed. Something shifted between them, and he was caught as Elias began to take Jon’s cock into his mouth again, all while staring at Jon with that same frightening intensity. As if he weren’t just looking at Jon, but looking into him. Bringing them closer not just in body, but in mind and soul. 

He began to suck, hollowing his cheeks as he took Jon into his throat, groaning around his length. The vibration was enough to make Jon flex the fingers in Elias’s hair, his other hand still trembling in Elias’s grip. When Elias swallowed around him, he almost looked away again, not to survey the room but to escape his gaze. To free himself from those eyes that barely seemed to blink, the way Elias barely seemed to breath as his tongue flexed along the underside of Jon’s cock. Jon bit back a moan, arousal returning with a ferocity he hadn’t expected. The anxiety from before still clawed at the edge of his mind, but his vision was clear, and his body intent on only one goal. 

Jon tugged on Elias’s hair, tentative but growing more confident when Elias moaned in response. They hadn’t done anything quite like this before, and part of Jon almost wished it was him on the floor, focused on Elias. But he knew his body couldn’t take that now, bloody holes barely covered by the many bandages. And despite his trepidation, despite the temptation to return to watching the room, he found Elias’s insistent attentions more and more consuming. 

Teeth lightly scraped his cock, as Jon bit back a whimper. Pain of a different and more welcome sort than the terrible worms, threatening far more sweetly than their deadly song. He thrust into it, savoring the heat that intensified with each graze. The way it blotted out the other pains, until all he could feel was Elias surrounding him. His teeth dug into his lip, not that it did anything to contain his all too desperate moan. A sound that deepened, cracked as Elias used his free hand to pet along the inside of Jon’s thighs, to light toy with his balls. Encouraging a release Jon couldn’t fight even if he wanted to, as his hand clenched around Elias’s, and he saw nothing but Elias’s pale eyes, felt nothing but the heat of his mouth, dragging one final plea from Jon’s lips.

“Elias—” Whatever else he might’ve said cut off with as he came down Elias’s throat, shivering through the aftershocks as Elias sucked and licked and held him through it. Until the room was quiet around them, and Jon was left in his seat, slumped and boneless and warmer than he’d been before. 

Elias didn’t pull back, even as Jon softened in his mouth. The small twitches of his tongue, the caress of breath, it was almost too much to bear on Jon’s oversensitive cock. But he found himself loath to break the contact, wanting to prolong the strange peace that had grown between them. Savoring the the feeling of Elias adjusting his grip on Jon’s hand, massaging his palm with a thumb. The way his ears were filled not with the ghostly screams of the worms and their hive, but the pounding of his heart, and the rustle of cloth as Elias adjusted his position. 

It was mesmerizing enough Jon nearly missed the creak of the door, and the sound of footsteps that followed. Only the way Elias tensed, his eyes flicking up in mute question, made Jon look up to find a police officer walking into his office. 

He extracted his hand from Elias, and folded both on the desk as he struggled for something resembling composure. Because try as he might to get the message to Elias that this really wasn’t the time, Elias kept his mouth firmly on Jon’s cock. Not sucking or teasing with his tongue, just holding it, one hand on Jon’s thigh to keep him from scooting away. As if that were a danger, when any distance from the desk might reveal what was actually going on. 

“How can I - ah - can I help you, officer?” Jon squirmed in his seat as Elias swallowed, the movement pressing Jon’s cock to the roof of his mouth. 

The officer gave him a quizzical look, but after a moment shrugged, and took another step into Jon’s office. “Just a couple follow up questions. I’m glad you’re still here, wouldn’t want to delay investigation, you know?” He laughed, and when Jon failed to join him in whatever private joke he clearly thought Jon was privy to, the sound quickly morphed into a cough. “Anyways, you have a minute?” 

Jon could recognize a question that was more platitude than genuine inquiry, and he could hardly say his boss was currently on under his desk sucking on his cock, and would the officer mind coming back later? So he gestured wearily at a chair shoved against the wall, and hoped the officer attributed his wince to pain from his injuries, rather than the sudden tightening of Elias’s lips. 

Despite his apparent desire to prevent delays, the officer proved unfortunately chatty and frustratingly slow. More than once Jon was tempted to ask if he had something he was avoiding, some paperwork he was putting off by wasting Jon’s time. But each time he opened his mouth to toss out a dismissive response, an accusation, or simply a request that the man leave already, Elias drew his attention downwards. Sliding away to the point Jon could almost believe he’d be free of the overwhelming sensation, only to take him back as deeply as he could stand. Teasing him with flicks of his tongue, the press of his cheeks as he sucked on the tender length. And worst of all, the return of his teeth, never enough to cause too much pain, just enough to stop Jon’s words with a gasp he had to explain more than once as his wounds still smarting from the attack. 

It was this that finally saved him from the officer’s incessant, pointless questions. The officer excused himself with an apology and an inscrutable look, and at that point Jon didn’t really care if he believed Jon about the pain or if he’d simply tired of Jon’s clear distraction. Because Elias’s actions were escalating again, and worse, Jon was responding, his cock hardening once more. It was all he could do to give the officer a distracted wave as he forced himself to sit still against the force of Elias’s maddening attentions. 

With the officer finally gone, Jon dared a glance down, to find Elias staring up at him, hair a mess from Jon’s earlier tugging and his lips reddened and wet, stretched around the length of Jon’s cock. He kept their eyes locked as he made small movements up and down the length again, and for a moment Jon tolerated it, hands flexing impotently on his desk.

But he’d had more than enough of Elias’s teasing. When Elias grazed his cock with teeth yet again, he grabbed Elias’s hair, holding him still as he made small, jerking motions with his hips. Even limited by their position and Jon’s injuries, it was enough to send him over the edge once more before collapsing back in his chair. All while Elias moaned around him in obvious delight, eyelids fluttering as he nursed Jon through his orgasm. 

The exhaustion hit him harder this time, enough that he thought he might even be able to fall asleep here. Not that he thought Elias would allow that, and he knew he’d regret it in the morning, even if he could coax Elias into rubbing the knots from his shoulders and back. Still, it was proof enough that however insane, however risky he thought this whole thing was, it had worked. At least for now. 

Elias eased off his cock, carefully pushing Jon’s chair from the desk and sitting upon the surface. He looked a right mess, sweat seeping through his pressed shirt, a fleck of Jon’s come on his chin. And in his trousers, Jon could see the straining outline of his cock. 

It was enough to rouse Jon, the urge towards reciprocity and some measure of control making him reach for Elias’s tie, using it to pull him down into a messy kiss. First their lips meeting, followed by Jon moving lower, to lick his own come from Elias’s chin. He could feel Elias smiling against his cheek, and despite it all, he found himself smiling in response. 

He drew back, reaching for Elias’s trousers, fumbling the button with shaking hands. Elias stopped him, covering Jon’s hands with his own, and leaned down to press a kiss to Jon’s temple.

“I assure you, there’s no need. You can more than make up for it when you feel better.”

The reminder of why they were here, why they were doing this, send a sick shock through Jon’s gut. Instead of making him pull back, it only firmed his resolve. He finally managed to undo the button, and draw down the zipper. Reaching inside to push away the barrier of Elias’s underwear to free his cock, and leaning forward to slide his own lips around it. 

Even as he did it, he winced, the still smarting wounds on his back pulled taut. He settled on a shallow angle, his lips around the head as one hand circled the base, the other braced on the desk. Inadequate as it might be, Elias didn’t seem displeased, stroking his hair with one hand while the other covered Jon’s, comfort and encouragement at once.

Jon had never been very good at this, but Elias never seemed to mind, and now was no exception. With each flick of Jon’s tongue, each bob of his head and the corresponding motion of his hand, he let out small sighs and groans. His fingers moved from Jon’s hair to his cheek, pressing it to touch his own cock, and eliciting a moan from Jon, to which he responded in turn.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, tracing his finger around Jon’s lips, brushing the edge of his own cock. “My lovely Archivist.”

The title made Jon shudder for reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend, half-pleasant and half-terrifying, and somehow one in the same. Again he moaned, and Elias seemed to lose some of his carefully guarded restraint, thrusting shallowly into Jon’s lips. One hand tightened over Jon’s as he continued to rub Jon’s cheek with the other, making Jon moan again as Elias came in his mouth. 

Jon sputtered slightly, come escaping his lips even as he tried to swallow. Before he could apologize, Elias pulled free, and leaned down again to capture Jon’s lips with his. Mouthing words against them Jon couldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure it mattered; Elias’s meaning was clear. 

When he tried to draw back, he was stopped by Jon’s hand fisted in his shirt. Desperate to prolong this moment, even though he knew this wasn’t any sort of end. They’d go home together, after all. And when Jon had nightmares, Elias would pull him closer, and murmur words of comfort against his neck. 

He wasn’t sure he could voice the fear in a way that would sound reasonable, but when Elias cleared his throat in clear inquiry, Jon knew he’d left himself no choice but to try. 

“I need you—” To be here. To remain as you’ve always been, a solid and unchangeable pillar. To know what to do, because Jon didn’t anymore. Maybe had never known, despite all his bluster. “I need…”

“I’ll be there, Jon. Whatever else happens, I promise you. I’ll always watch over you.” He placed another kiss on Jon’s temple, and untangled Jon’s hand from his shirt. But he didn’t let Jon go, instead taking Jon’s hand in his, and drawing Jon to his feet. 

Between them, they managed to put themselves back into some sort of order. Enough that at least any casual passersby shouldn’t notice anything amiss. And Elias would drive them home, so in the dark, that was all they needed. 

When Elias looped an arm around Jon’s waist at the bottom of the stairs, Jon couldn’t help but tense. The offer of help was reasonable, given Jon’s state. But up there—

“Someone might see,” he said, meeting Elias’s eyes. Willing him to understand.

Elias kissed him again, pressing close for a moment, before returning to their previous position, urging Jon forward again.

“No one will see you but me.” 

It shouldn’t be the comfort it was. But right now, Jon had little else to hold on to. So he clung to Elias, and found his terror contained as they made their way up into the unknown.


End file.
